He eyed the young couple with the tragic history behind them, and could only suppose that familiarity had dulled their senses. “Go to the far corner,” he said, “and sing the last verse of Les Petites. ‘Did she call you that?’ asked Lucilla, amused. "When in France, I heard from the Marshal that his brother had perished in London on the night of the Great Storm. Canton was something like a blind alley; unless you were native, you couldn't get anywhere except by returning to Hong-Kong and starting afresh. If I'd been in the way, instead of Jonathan Wild, that accident wouldn't have happened.
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